


[C] Unlikely Routines

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Anal Fingering, Anal Plug, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bondage, Bottom Gabriel (Good Omens), Collars, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Dominance, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Exhibitionism, Falling In Love, Fantasizing, First Meetings, Full Moon, Full Shift Werewolves, Humiliation, Jealousy, M/M, Master/Pet, Open Relationships, Pet Names, Riding, Sexual Inexperience, Switch Aziraphale (Good Omens), Threesome - M/M/M, Top Crowley (Good Omens), Voyeurism, Werewolf Sex, monster fucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-02
Updated: 2020-06-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:59:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24511177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: Crowley and Gabriel were supposed to be enemies, but the unlikely always happens. One, a vampire, and the other, a werewolf, there's absolutely no limit to the trouble they can get themselves into. Sometimes, that trouble takes the shape of a bookshop keeper and an unexpected full moon.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 66





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AceAsADHD](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceAsADHD/gifts).



> Huzzah for world-building based fics. Really, they're my favorite to work on. Canonverse is fun but IMAGINE the possibilities. Hope y'all enjoy!
> 
> Mostly crowgabe first chapter. a/c/g second chapter. pretty sure i tagged for everything but you have no idea how hard it is to remember everything that happened in a story. the second i finish the fic, it is forgotten
> 
> comments and kudos are appreciated <3

Crowley knew he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t help himself. It’d been some attack—battle—whatever anyone wanted to call it. He hadn’t been there for it. All he’d known was that someone had attacked someone who attacked them, and the whole circle of attacking nearly took a town down with it. Normally, Crowley wouldn’t have cared, but this was _his_ town. When the battle had finished and the vampires had gone one way, the wolves to the other, he came out to inspect the damage.

This was one of those things Crowley hadn’t cared about. It wasn’t his _choice_ to be a vampire, so why should he join their stupid plight against the wolves? He was more than happy to keep to himself in his little country cottage and just live. When they brought the fight to him, he was obligated to care, but only to make sure that his way of life wasn’t suddenly being threatened. Lucifer could call on Crowley whenever he wanted, and this was the only reason Crowley would ever answer—to shout if someone had burned his town beyond repair.

Thankfully, the town was mostly still together. The townspeople were hiding in their houses with the blinds drawn, and somewhere, some of them were squashed and rotting beneath the collapsed buildings. That wasn’t what Crowley cared about. People died all the time. He wasn’t people. He liked the people because they made good ale, good music, and good partners. They were as much fun to bite as they were to fuck against seedy tavern walls in the odd hours of the morning.

But he wasn’t out here for them. They could die and fuck and birth all they wanted, and Crowley wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t change. He’d find new towns and new people and follow their little cycle as best he could. He was out here to inspect the damage of some fight he hadn’t wanted to be involved with. Buildings could be repaired, and the people would be replaced, but there was one thing left in the damage that caught Crowley’s eye. _That_ was something that couldn’t be fixed, replaced, or other.

Crowley rushed down the cobblestones to the huddled figure, lying still on the ground. He dropped down to his knees and knew _instantly_ who he was staring at—one of the wolves, left in a pool of his own blood to die on this street. There were long nail scratches down his chest, easily visible through the shreds of his shirt. There were even bite marks, deep enough that they were already turning a sickly looking black. Crowley’s stomach churned, but he rolled the man onto his back.

The man’s eyes were closed, and his face was bruised, beaten. He was unconscious, wounded, and sitting right on death’s door. If nobody did anything, an unkillable and undying beast would rot away on the cobblestone streets of this nameless, putrid little town. Crowley should have let it happen, too. This wasn’t _his_ kind; this wasn’t his person. This man, lying in his own blood and dying, was a wolf. Maybe he didn’t look it, but Crowley could practically smell it on him.

Still, in a rare feat of strength, Crowley lifted the man right off the ground. Even with supernatural help, it was nearly impossible. This man was bigger, taller, but Crowley still couldn’t just leave him there. He wouldn’t. It wasn’t right, no matter what anyone would say. If Lucifer ever found out—and he would—Crowley would deal with it, then. For the moment, all he would deal with was the strain in his muscles as he struggled to get this man back to his home.

By the time he had the hulking man in his bed, Crowley was wiped out and exhausted. He dropped the man down, and then dropped himself to the floor. He was stupid. He was giving his own bed to a man he didn’t know, and that man was his sworn enemy. Crowley didn’t know _why_ they were enemies, just that they were, and he was about to risk everything to help one. It was the worst decision he’d ever made, not counting how he’d even got wrapped up in this whole business to begin with.

As it were, he wasn’t going to be able to stay in this town for much longer, not if he was suddenly going to start housing wounded wolf-men. He’d been around for some seventy-something years, so far, and he was about to throw that all away because he was overcome with the need to _help_. Really, the wolf-man’s wounds were bad. He needed the help. Crowley didn’t have to be the one to help him, but the people in the town would have left him to die just the same as his own people did. Just like the other vampires had.

Crowley sighed and ran his fingers back through his hair. He’d planned on feeding, after he’d assessed the damage. That had gone out the window the second he found this wolf-man. Now, all he could think about is what he’d just gotten himself into. This wasn’t a one or two day play date—this was a commitment. He’d just committed himself to nursing his _enemy_ back to health, which meant he wasn’t going back out for a quick snack until he was gone.

It took two days before the man even opened his eyes, and when he did, Crowley’s close proximity sent him into a raging panic. Crowley was half-kneeling on the bed, leaning over the wolf-man with a wet rag and only good intentions, but the wolf-man didn’t _know_ that. He panicked, arms going up in an immediate defensive position. He struck, and he scrambled to the edge of the bed, pressed up against the wooden wall of the cabin. Crowley should have retreated, but instead, he tried to grab the wolf-man’s wrists.

Crowley just wanted him to calm down—that’s all. He wanted him to lie _still_ so his wounds wouldn’t rip right back open. The man was already hurt; he didn’t need to make it worse by undoing all of the work Crowley had already been able to do. It hadn’t been _much_. The man still needed new clothes and a bath, but Crowley had at least been able to get the worst of his gashes closed back up. The sudden struggle was about to set them back to the very second Crowley had found this man lying on the ground.

“Calm down, you stupid mutt!” Crowley shouted. “I’m trying to fix your goddamn wounds—”

“What—what?” the man stammered. But it stilled him just before things tore themselves back open. His breath was fast, ragged, and there was sweat dripping down his forehead from the rising fever. “Who are you? _Why_ are you helping me? What happened—?”

“One question at a time, puppy,” Crowley muttered. Just as easy as it’d been for Crowley to recognize the wolf-man for what he was, he knew Crowley. It was hard not to know Crowley, with his yellow eyes and slitted pupils.

“What happened?”

“Don’t know. Your guys attacked my guys, or my guys attacked your guys. All I know’s that the place is a mess, and I found your rotten body lying in the middle of it. You were dying.”

The man nodded a bit grimly.

“My turn—what’s your name?”

“Gabriel.”

“Crowley—and I’m helping you because it’s the decent thing to do.”

“We’re _enemies_ ,” Gabriel argued. “There’s no reason for that. You should have just left me out there to die—”

“Yeah, that’d be real something of me, wouldn’t it? To be real with you, I haven’t ever really understood why we’re all so out to get each other. Didn’t make sense to leave someone to die in the streets, so here we are. You could _thank_ me.”

Gabriel frowned. “I don’t think that’d be very appropriate, do you?”

Crowley shrugged. “Maybe not, but who’s keeping score? Certainly not me. Now, get over here and let me clean your wounds. I’ll run you a bath later.”

Gabriel looked hesitant. Crowley’s kindness was something he’d never seen in a vampire, and he surely didn’t think he’d ever see it again. As much as he didn’t believe this was genuine, he didn’t have much of a choice. Crowley was between him and the door, whether he meant to be or not. The safest thing to do would just be to lay there and allow Crowley to play nurse until he was satisfied. In that moment, Gabriel’s only plan was to leave as fast as he could.

He settled back down into the bed and allowed Crowley to tend to him. Crowley had careful hands, and he tended to Gabriel as if he didn’t have some ulterior motive. Gabriel might have thought he was about to be taken prisoner, but Crowley didn’t seem the type. He seemed genuine, and that had Gabriel relaxing. His breathing was still labored with the fever really starting to set in, but he was as fine as he could be. Crowley had washed the wounds the best he could, and his only concern now was keeping them from festering. Once Gabriel had bathed, Crowley could apply bandages.

Crowley finished what little he could do with Gabriel’s wounds, and then pushed himself back to his feet. It was already midday. Crowley had given this unconscious wolf-man two whole days of his time for nothing—not so much as a word of gratitude. From the looks of his wounds, it would be at least through the end of the week. All he could hope for was being strong enough to hide how hungry he was. The scent of blood so close wasn’t doing anything to help.

“You’re just going outside?” Gabriel piped up, and his voice stopped Crowley right at the door.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Gabriel tried his best to sit up, though he groaned as he did. He moved towards the edge of the bed and let his feet touch the floor. “They told us you couldn’t go out in the sun. Vampires, I mean.”

Crowley snorted. “I mean, let the locals believe that if it makes them feel safe, but really? You pups actually think that’s real?”

“Stop calling me that, and _yes_. Right up until this moment, that’s what they’ve told us.”

“I’ll withhold the laughing part of this. I’m going out to get the water for your bath, unless you’d prefer staying the way you are.”

Gabriel shook his head. “A bath would be nice,” he muttered, unsure if he really should give into this. Crowley seemed so _kind_ , but it was all too good to be true. It had to.

Still, as much as Gabriel believed that he’d find himself in chains at any moment, a bath sounded heavenly. He wasn’t going to be the one to turn one down. While Crowley stepped outside to get the water, Gabriel worked on standing up. He’d need to do it to take the bath, anyhow. Once he had his strength back, he could _leave_ , too. If possible, he would be gone by the first full moon. That was something he didn’t want to deal with in Crowley’s house.

As it turned out, there was a lot that they didn’t know about each other. There were just as many lies circulating through Crowley’s community as there were through Gabriel’s. Only _some_ vampires could go out in the sun—strong ones, like Crowley. The rumor went around that no vampires could because it made hunting in the day easier. People felt safe, so they let their guard down. The garlic thing was also made up for the same reason; as Crowley explained, the only thing garlic ever did was set off someone’s allergies _before_ they’d ever been a vampire.

How that man’s death and the garlic thing had happened—Crowley didn’t actually know. He wasn’t _that_ old. He had stopped keeping count at one point, but it wasn’t like he’d been around since the beginning. Crowley shared his lineage, or what he knew of it, and Gabriel really didn’t know what most of it meant. He’d listened. The more Crowley talked, the more Gabriel found that he wanted to listen. There wasn’t anything better to do while he was waiting around for his wounds to heal.

Gabriel shared his own stories, too. He’d been born a werewolf, of which he was thankful for. It meant he got to skip the first painfully bone-crushing transformation. Natural born werewolves had it easier than the ones who were infected—and it was a disease. Gabriel believed that. He’d just been born with it. They did not, however, go entirely feral under a full moon. It just sparked a different type of transformation. Normally, it just meant they could turn into wolves.

If he was any better healed than he was, Gabriel might have even put on a demonstration. It shocked him when Crowley even seemed disappointed that there _wouldn_ _’t_ be one, and that was when Gabriel noticed it. The point of Crowley’s teeth and the sheen in his eye said exactly one thing—he was _hungry_.

“When was the last time you fed?” Gabriel asked suddenly. Their previous topic of conversation died on the spot as Crowley’s pupils dilated.

“About two weeks,” Crowley muttered. He didn’t talk loud enough for Gabriel to hear; when Gabriel asked him to repeat himself, Crowley nearly _shouted_ : “two weeks!”

Gabriel blinked. There came a silence after as Gabriel pieced all of it together. Crowley had been taking care of him instead of taking care of himself. Vampires could go an extraordinarily long time without feeding on blood, but they still needed it. They needed it like people needed water and werewolves needed meat. Even if Crowley wouldn’t suffer for his fasting for years, even decades, that didn’t deter the want—the carnal _need_ for blood.

Suddenly, Gabriel was shifting to the end of the bed. He wasn’t healed, nowhere near, in fact, but he was better. He could move easier, more freely. He didn’t need help walking as much as he just needed plenty of rests in between. He certainly didn’t need help bathing, like he had the first night. Crowley had done so much to make sure he was healed, and his wounds were dressed. More important, Crowley had made sure he was fed and that his thirst was quenched, all at the expense of his own needs. This was the least he could do.

Crowley just stood there with confusion written all over his face. He watched as Gabriel moved to the edge of the bed, letting his feet hit the ground. Though it was a painful process, he watched as Gabriel tugged at his shirt until the collar was pulled wide and open—the column of his neck on extravagant display. Crowley didn’t want to hope, nor did he want to think about this. He couldn’t imagine the consequences of sinking his teeth into a werewolf’s neck, but Gabriel had a fine one.

“What are you doing?” Crowley asked. It was a pain to keep himself composed, but he managed.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Gabriel frowned. “Consider it my thanks—unless you’re _picky_ about what you suck—”

“Not at all,” Crowley interrupted. There was a long moment where he and Gabriel just stared at each other, as they each tried to determine the meaning of that interaction. It wasn’t something to be so easily understood.

Crowley let his hunger get the best of him. It was hard to resist a willing participant, especially one so _fine_. Gabriel was handsome, and no amount of lying to himself would change Crowley’s stalwart opinion. He struggled, at the best of times, to keep himself controlled. When someone like Gabriel was just _presenting_ himself, then how could Crowley say no? The least he could do was not rush, and he didn’t. He stepped across the room slowly until he was directly in front of Gabriel.

Gabriel spared one glance before he closed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. He felt the dip in the bed as Crowley’s knee sunk into the old mattress. Then, there were hands on his shoulders. Crowley’s movements were so hesitant and slow that Gabriel almost dared think they were careful—sensual, even. Like this was some unpracticed dance between newlywed lovers. Like Crowley didn’t want to _hurt_ him. Gabriel was starting to wonder if he wouldn’t mind the hurt, and that was a dangerous thing.

They were enemies. This wasn’t anything more than a repayment of debt, a life for a life. Technically speaking. After this, they would go straight back to where they’d been before. The struggle between their peoples would always be, and as it continued, they may even stand to face each other one day in battle. Nothing would change that. Not even the delicate feeling of Crowley’s breath against Gabriel’s neck or the way he moved slowly, as to not frighten or harm.

There was a sharp bit of pain as Crowley’s teeth sunk down, but it dissipated only a second later. It was replaced with a rush of _pleasure_ , with the idle touch of Crowley’s tongue to the growing wounds. Gabriel couldn’t help himself—it seemed like the natural reaction. There was a hitch in his breath, and his legs seemed to part on their own. Every rush of blood just seemed another great reason why they didn’t have to be enemies. This was _fine_. They just had to let it be fine.

When Crowley was finished, he pulled back after one final lick over the new wounds. It seemed to close them off, instantly. There was blood dripping from his chin, and his pupils were almost comically dilated. Gabriel didn’t laugh, though. He just smiled. Something about that look on Crowley’s face was oddly charming, and he wanted to see it more. For all of an instant, Gabriel wanted to see it more.

They nearly ricocheted apart when the realization of what had just happened hit them both. It’d been _arousing_ in the worst way possible. Gabriel was a werewolf, and Crowley was a vampire. This wasn’t _anything_. It was the repayment of a debt and nothing more. Gabriel would be healed enough to leave, soon, and then it would be nothing at all. Everything would end the moment Gabriel wasn’t trapped here by his body’s own stubborn inability to instantaneously heal.

-

It had been years since they’d seen each other, but it was clear from the very first moment how things had changed. This was land that Crowley wasn’t supposed to be on, and as Gabriel’s debt had already been repaid, there was no reason for him to act so cordially. He should have transformed and attacked Crowley on the spot. If that wasn’t something he was comfortable with, then all he had to do was call in his companions, and Crowley wouldn’t stand a chance.

Instead, Gabriel approached him after that initial eye-contact. That’s all it had taken to ensure neither one of them were about to bare fangs and claws. With a tight grip on his arm, Gabriel dragged Crowley into a dark alley between two fine looking buildings—they were living at the turn of the century, creeping into the nineteenth century now, and how humans were _learning_.

“You can’t be here,” Gabriel hissed.

“Yeah, well, I can’t really be anywhere, can I? Some arse-kisser found out about what I did for you half a century ago and now I’m in a big fucking world of trouble.”

Gabriel’s face softened at once, and he sighed. “So, you think the best thing to do is wander into enemy territory?”

“Didn’t meet an enemy, did I, then?”

Gabriel shook his head. “Crowley, we _are_ enemies. It doesn’t matter what happened. That doesn’t change anything, even if you seem to think it did.”

Crowley just frowned. “You don’t lie so good, pup. Why don’t you run back to your masters and tell them where the big bad vampire’s hiding, yeah? That’d really prove we were enemies.”

“This really isn’t the place to be throwing a fit, Crowley. Let me at least buy you a drink before you go. The tavern is right behind you.”

That wasn’t something Crowley was going to pass up. In reality, he wasn’t even all that angry, he was just stressed. He’d never been overly involved with his own people, but to know all it took for them to turn their backs on him was one kind deed was a bit of a strike to the gut. He’d never been _this_ alone; there was always the promise of other vampires hiding somewhere in other towns, in other covens. Now, he really believed enemy territory would be a safer place to be than with his own kind. That was the sort of thing only a desperate man did, and desperate men needed a good drink.

He would have liked to waste the night away in the tavern on Gabriel’s coin and Gabriel’s kindness, but it didn’t happen. When Gabriel said a drink, he meant _one_ drink. He ordered Crowley a pint of ale and told him to be on his way once he was done. Gabriel didn’t even stay to drink with him. While it wasn’t quite something an enemy did, it wasn’t what a friend did, either. It just left Crowley feeling alone and vulnerable. He was one vampire roaming within werewolf country to escape the scorn of his own creator.

That was something he thought anyone could at least sympathize with, even if they didn’t understand. It was a hard thing to understand, but no one had even tried. Gabriel had been Crowley’s last change, but he still so firmly believed that they were enemies that it was best that Crowley did leave after his drink. If he didn’t, he feared he would see the culmination of that promise as Gabriel would attack him in the streets. In his current state, Crowley wouldn’t stand much of a chance. He wouldn’t know what he’d be up against.

The problem just continued from there; nothing Crowley did or planned for could make it stop. He was a vampire on the run and being a vampire on the run just meant there was nowhere for him to go. He spent his nights in seedy little hotels, and he spent his days hiding in back alleys trying to lure people down for a quick bite to eat. There were no comforts. No drinks, no fine foods, and no perfect beds with silken sheets. Crowley was used to certain amenities; he could go without them, but what he hated going without was the contact.

His only interaction was the quick snacks he could manage, but never enough for a full meal. Being on the run meant baths were harder to come by, which meant he wasn’t exactly the picture-perfect man he used to be. He went from finding warm partners to share a bed with for the night and take a full feeding from to having to deal with grabbing the undesirables for the ten minutes he could have them. It was bad. A fugitive’s life was no life for Crowley, but here he was.

Here he would stay.

It was sometime in eighteen sixty-three when Crowley found himself in another world’s sort of trouble. Not all werewolves were the same breed of werewolf, especially infected ones. The natural born ones tended to be stronger in all ways, including their sense of smell—their senses, in general. Crowley knew this young woman was a werewolf, but she didn’t know that he was a vampire. She’d been infected some thirty years prior, frozen in her most beautiful years, but never had the time for the special senses to develop. She couldn’t see Crowley for the monster that he was.

Crowley had scraped together enough coin from haggling and hustling to get himself a nice meal and a nice bed and a nice bath. His clothes were always in fashion and always clean, it was just the rest of him that sometimes didn’t follow. He’d found the woman in the moments that _did_ follow, where all of him was put perfectly together. She’d been helpless to him as he was to her. Her beautiful brown hair was done up in curls and ringlets around her face, and her dress was perfectly poised to make her seem like a lady.

All it had taken was one smile for her to follow Crowley. All it had taken was one wrong turn for Crowley to realize he’d been caught and not her. He wouldn’t be experiencing that lovely taste of werewolf blood tonight—while she hadn’t known him, she’d _known_ him. The rumors circulated far and wide of the vagabond vampire. The perfect prey for a small, useless pack of werewolves desperate to find their place in the world. One wrong turn and Crowley was face to face with a pack of rabid wolves—this lady their perfect bait.

Oh, how the smirk on her face might have killed him, itself.

Crowley shot off into a panicked run, shedding his fancy jacket in the escape. It was cumbersome and hard to run in. The shoes would go next, if he couldn’t find a place to hide. He needed to find a place to hide. These wolves were mutts at best, but their sense of smell could still work. Now that they had Crowley’s look and his scent, they could follow him to the end of the earths like the mangy beasts that they were. Crowley would never be able to outrun them on two legs, alone.

He pulled down flower displays and threw carts from vendors in an impressive feat of strength. Anything he could do to protect himself from the raging frenzy behind him. It wouldn’t be enough. None of it would ever be enough, because they were gaining on him, quickly. He could hear where two had separated from the pack to try and cut him off through the alleys, but he just kept running. He kept running and took a sharp turn down the next street, nearly tripping over the cracks between the cobblestones.

He fell over his own two feet and only narrowly managed to avoid slamming his face straight into the ground. That was only by the grace of a hand on his collar to keep him steady. Once he had his feet, the hand let him go, and Crowley came to a dead stop directly behind the last person he’d ever thought he’d see again.

Gabriel.

The other werewolves turned cowards in his presence, scrambling to their own stops and whimpering, bowing their heads. Gabriel didn’t even have to _speak_ to them to get them to stand down. They did so out of principle, and at the point of his finger, they turned tail and ran off. Just like that, Crowley’s life was back in his hands. He wasn’t about to die, mauled by teeth and claws. He was fine. He was fine, and Gabriel was there. But he wasn’t happy.

He didn’t even speak to Crowley before turning to grab him by the arm and dragging him off to the side. They rushed through the streets in hurried silence, taking turn after turn, until they were arriving at a rather nondescript house. That was the house Gabriel pulled Crowley into, slamming the door shut behind them and locking it.

“What is wrong with you?” He shouted, turning back to face Crowley. “You could have died!”

“You wanna tell me about how you seem to just have that kind of control over those mutts? Someone get a promotion in the last fifty years?”

Gabriel frowned. “That’s not the point of this, and you know it. If it’s anything to you, I am highly regarded within our community. We heard rumors of this particular pack _planning_ something, and we thought it was a coup. Turns out, it’s _you_! Do you know what problem you’ve caused?”

“No. Please tell me, since I’m the one who almost died, and you can just control these mutts with your finger. I think I know what kind of danger I was in—”

“That’s not the _point_! I told you to leave. I told you to get out of our territory, and what did you do? You try to pick up one of our own and feed from her? You’re going to get yourself killed!”

“And what the fuck do you care what I do? I don’t have anyone to go home to, and I don’t have _you_ , so what’s the point?”

Gabriel was moments from flying into a rage. “Don’t you dare drag me into this. I told you from the moment we met that we were _enemies_ —”

“Enemies!?” Crowley roared. “Do enemies keep each other alive like this? I saved your damn _life_ all those years ago, and what did you do in return? Oh, you should have been stabbing me in my sleep if you wanted to play the enemy card, but you bared your _neck_ to me—”

“That was then! It was a desperate—”

“Shut _up!_ _”_ Crowley barked, surging forward. He grabbed Gabriel by the collar of his shirt.

Everything fell apart in that second. Crowley’s long and hurtful speech about how Gabriel didn’t act like his enemy—enemies didn’t save each other like Gabriel had just saved him—died right on his lips. He was inches from Gabriel’s face, and this close, he saw things he’d never seen before. Gabriel’s eyes were such a lovely lavender. His lips were thin and pink, almost trembling with his own need to shout back. With something else, maybe. Crowley didn’t know.

All he knew was, in the next second, they were kissing. They crashed together without pause and without clear fault. Who had moved first was unknown, and it didn’t even matter. Crowley felt the way Gabriel melted against him, the way their bodies molded together from their chests to their hips. Crowley could feel every hitch in Gabriel’s breath, every jolt of his body as they kissed and kissed again—harder. When Crowley pushed, Gabriel followed.

They fell into the nearest wall, Crowley bracing himself with his hands beside Gabriel’s neck. His beautiful, smooth neck. Crowley couldn’t help but touch it as they kissed; he ran his fingers down from Gabriel’s jaw to his collarbone, just feeling the sweet touch of his skin. Gabriel all but _trembled_ at the touch. His lips parted when Crowley’s tongue pressed against them, and the kiss was suddenly deeper. It was hotter. Gabriel was breathing desperately through his nose to keep himself composed.

When Crowley pulled back, there was just silence. They stayed inches apart, noses brushing and breath mingling between them, just staring at each other. Gabriel was panting, and Crowley didn’t breathe at all. Somehow, he was still hot to the touch. Gabriel trailed his own touch along Crowley’s neck, down to the expanse of his chest left bared by his open shirt.

“Enemies, huh?” Crowley muttered.

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. “Shut up,” he said.

“You didn’t fight it. You want—”

“I do,” Gabriel cut him off before Crowley could take his sudden knowledge and act like he was so smart for figuring it out. “For longer than you’ll know.”

That had Crowley breathing where he didn’t need to. Just the _thought_ that Gabriel had wanted him for just as long, maybe _longer_ than Crowley had wanted him, was enough to make Crowley weak in his knees. He had enough strength to pull Gabriel off the wall and head for the stairs. Crowley didn’t need an invitation for this—he already had his invitation. Gabriel followed him up the stairs and told him where to go; the bedroom was the last door on the right.

It was just as nondescript as the rest of the house, but it didn’t matter. There was a large bed with a plush mattress and clean sheets—that’s all Crowley needed. And he didn’t even have to ask what happened next. They met together in another kiss, and the way Gabriel melted into him told Crowley all he needed to know. When they fell into the bed, it was Gabriel’s back that hit the mattress first. Gabriel moaned into their kiss and let his legs fall open.

Crowley shifted up, moving them farther onto the bed and bending his knees beneath Gabriel’s thighs. It _kept_ him spread open—had his legs up around Crowley’s hips and their cocks pressed together through the fabric of their trousers. It was such a quick, _hot_ arousal. Only minutes had passed, and Gabriel was already achingly hard. Crowley was no better off. He was already picturing what Gabriel was going to look like, spread out and flushed beneath him, thighs spread and a thick cock inside of him—

Gabriel pushed him back, struggling to find his breath. His face was already red, all the way down to the peek of his chest. But he was pushing Crowley back. All manner of reasons why started to flood through Crowley’s head. Everything from Gabriel didn’t want this set up to he didn’t want this, at all.

“We shouldn’t,” Gabriel muttered. “What if someone finds out?”

“Why would they?” Crowley asked. He stroked his thumb along the crest of Gabriel’s cheek, and the way that Gabriel leaned into the touch said that he wanted this more than he knew how to process.

“It’s _wrong_ ,” Gabriel pressed.

Crowley shook his head. “It’s not. Nothing about this is wrong.”

Gabriel sucked in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He didn’t look like he believed Crowley, but his desire was taking over. Even if he didn’t _believe_ Crowley, he wanted Crowley bad enough that maybe it didn’t matter what he believed.

“I should bathe, then,” Gabriel muttered.

That sounded like want. Like consent and desire. That’s all Crowley could ask for, and it’s all he wanted. He wouldn’t even wait for Gabriel to bathe—he’d jump right into the water with him. He wanted to see Gabriel naked. He wanted to _feel_ Gabriel naked, against him. To touch, to look at. To have all to himself.

The best part of it was—Gabriel gave. He gave and he gave, and he gave. From the sound of his voice to the way he spread open his thighs, Gabriel just _gave_ Crowley everything he wanted. He never once tried to silence himself—he cried out when Crowley pushed into him, and he cried even louder when he came. Crowley couldn’t stop himself, then. When Crowley came, it was with Gabriel’s blood in his mouth. Gabriel just held onto him, held onto him for dear life with nails in his skin and ankles locked around his hips.


	2. Chapter 2

Who once was well respected within the hierarchy of werewolf packs was now trotting along the sidewalk with a properly fitted service-dog vest and a leash. He should have felt ridiculous, but there was something comforting knowing that he didn’t have to sacrifice much for safety. Gabriel had spent the last two-hundred and some odd years running at Crowley’s side; their newest disguise in their newest city might have been a bit demeaning, but it meant they were safe. For now.

Crowley’s eyes were a complicated thing to hide; they were sickly looking, at best, and at their worst, they set people off. The sunglasses he’d taken to wearing only did so much, but in the newer age, he had come up with a whole plethora of excuses. He had a rare eye disorder today which hindered his sight, which was where Gabriel’s disguise came in. With how far everything had come, it was easy to convince the regular person that he _was_ just a dog—though he clearly appeared more as a wolf than any sort of domesticated breed would.

It worked, and that’s all that mattered. All that mattered was that they were so inconspicuous that there was no reason for anyone to point them out. No reason to be noticed, no reason for vampires and werewolves alike to come chasing them down.

Today, the goal was to just go shopping. They were living in a flat together in Soho, London. On the lease, there was just a man and his dog. In reality, things were a bit more complicated than that. The only time Gabriel ever really had to transform down to four-legs was when they went out. The landlord didn’t come around enough for it to be a problem, and Crowley’s extravagance was a good enough excuse to explain the doubles of things. Not that anyone ever asked, but they were prepared for anything.

“Where are we headed today?” Crowley muttered just quiet enough that passersby wouldn’t hear him, but Gabriel would. His ears perked back at the question, and they came to a stop at an intersection.

“Good boy.” Crowley smirked.

If they went straight across the street, they’d be on their way down to a local market with local vendors. Everything was fresh and good, but it was more expensive than if they turned left. If they turned left, they’d head to a more branded area. It would save them money in the long run, but sometimes the lure of freshness was too good to pass up. Crowley didn’t eat as much food as Gabriel did—just the innate differences in their natures—so, he often let Gabriel decide. They’d always find a way with the money.

Something stopped them both before Gabriel decided. Something to the right of the street. Someone who hadn’t even been on the radar until that exact second. He looked a bit like a gentleman aged beyond his years; it wasn’t that he was old, it was just that the color of his hair didn’t match the clean-shaven and wrinkle free face. Still, it was that smell. It hit them both at the same time; Gabriel’s ears perked forward, and his head shot up. Crowley just glanced to the side.

It was a bookstore the man was tending. A rather old-fashioned looking bookstore, really; it wasn’t Crowley’s usual haunt, though it did have an old air about it. It reminded Crowley of the old days, back near the beginning. So did the way the man dressed. Crowley was nothing if not intrigued, and so was Gabriel. It’d been a long time since they both looked at someone in that same way—last time, it had resulted in quite the pleasing night. _This_ time, though—Crowley wondered if it might mean something different.

“I guess we’ll forget the grocery trip,” Crowley mumbled. “We still need to buy some food before we head home. Your time of the month is coming up.”

Gabriel growled in response, but instead of turning to nip at Crowley’s heels like he might have otherwise, he tugged Crowley across the street. Crowley didn’t have to be convinced. They went from grocery shopping to book shopping in an instant, or that had been the plan. They hadn’t even made it into the building before the owner was stopping them.

He was a tall man, though still plump for his height. White hair, blue eyes, and all of that stiff clothing. There wasn’t a thing about him _not_ to like, really. He had the type of look that wasn’t just the interest for a night, but for a long, long time. He didn’t smell supernatural, but he may as well have stepped right out of the Victorian era. He even spoke all proper, too. Crowley couldn’t help but smirk. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he knew he had a bit of an ulterior motive, but he really couldn’t bring himself to care.

“Oh, excuse me,” the man said. “I really would prefer if you didn’t take an animal into the shop.”

“I need him,” Crowley responded. He was too busy just staring at the shop owner to really notice how the shop owner was staring at Gabriel. Most people were happy to believe that Gabriel was just a big dog, but this shopkeeper was already a bit suspicious. “He helps me see.”

“I understand, um—”

“Crowley,” Crowley introduced, sticking his hand out. “Don’t mind the mutt,” said with a grin. Gabriel refrained from growling, but he did shift back to step on Crowley’s foot.

“Aziraphale,” the shop owner responded, shaking Crowley’s hand. The name was strange, too, once again like Aziraphale had stepped right out of the Victorian Era. He couldn’t have possibly been anything supernatural—Crowley would have smelled it. _Gabriel_ would have smelled it. There was nothing.

“I suppose if the dog is required, then he’s more than welcome. Are you perhaps looking for anything specific?”

Aziraphale followed them inside the shop, leaving his work outside. Crowley didn’t read much, so he really didn’t have more of an excuse than he was new in town. By now, they’d been living here for a few years. They just hadn’t seen the shop until this very moment—if they had, they hadn’t seen the owner. Saying they’d just moved in was an easier excuse, and Aziraphale bought it right up to the change of pronoun. It went from singular to plural.

Crowley, who was used to messing up that particular thing, quickly had an excuse. He had a _friend_ —a roommate. It nearly earned him another step to the foot, but he moved away just fast enough to avoid Gabriel’s sharp little claws. They were more than friends. More than roommates. But Crowley didn’t exactly like to announce it to the world. They’d learned from too many past encounters that it was better not to announce it to everyone they met. The world was growing kinder, but Crowley was understandably cautious.

While he was pretty sure he was staring at the gayest man he’d met in the last century, one could never be too careful. He’d make it up when he and Gabriel got back to the flat when he had the chance to explain that this was the perfect cover. It meant that _next_ time they came to this shop, Aziraphale would be expecting a friend. Gabriel would be able to come as Gabriel, two legs and everything. They could leave the dog play for something behind closed doors.

It really didn’t take long for their conversation to drift from a customer relationship to something a bit more friendly. Aziraphale was a curious man, and he asked questions. He wanted to know about the dog—who curiously didn’t have a name. If Crowley intended to actually bring the _real_ Gabriel, he couldn’t exactly say he’d named his dog Gabriel. So, another quick decision—Crowley was carting around a rather burly looking husky by the name of Spot.

Spot.

Gabriel was having about the worst day of his life, so far, and he made his suffering known by laying down on the floor. Aziraphale watched as Gabriel laid down with eyes that spoke hesitance. That was just what Gabriel needed—to find out that Aziraphale didn’t like dogs. Not only was Gabriel going to be one day behind in even meeting the man, but he was already at a disadvantage. He _was_ a dog, at heart and at nature. The whole thing was already going to be complicated if they were both thinking the same thing, and then Gabriel was going to throw that little wrench in there. He wasn’t looking forward to it.

In truth, Aziraphale looked at _Spot_ and couldn’t quite place what breed he was. Crowley could say _husky_ all he wanted, but Aziraphale didn’t see it. Nothing about Gabriel looked like a husky, which made everything a bit suspicious. If Aziraphale had anything to say about it, he would say this wasn’t a dog at all, but a wolf. They didn’t train seeing-eye wolves. Crowley didn’t even appear to be blind, either. Which led to Aziraphale’s next question: what disease did he have?

Crowley didn’t know. He didn’t know the first thing about eye diseases, so he had to think quickly on his feet. So quickly, in fact, that his disease suddenly didn’t have a name and had been diagnosed so long ago that he didn’t even remember it. It was a sensitive topic, because apparently it had suddenly caused the death of his father twelve years prior. In reality, Crowley’s father had died sometime back in the eighteenth century, and Crowley hadn’t been all that upset to see him go.

Aziraphale wasn’t buying any of it, but he tried to keep that to himself. He smiled at Crowley, nodding along and listening as he stammered and talked his way through his lies. It was almost funny, listening as Crowley pieced together a barely believable story. Crowley was at least charming, a bit funny. Even if Aziraphale didn’t believe anything he was saying, he was still charmed by it. He enjoyed the little details Crowley threw in there to make it more believable. In fact, if Aziraphale was any less learned than he was, he might have believed it.

Their conversation eventually dwindled down to all they had left to talk about—Crowley’s roommate. It was the first and only thing that had perked Gabriel from his spot on the floor, where he’d found quite a comfortable place to rest near the fireplace. Crowley had _everything_ to say about his roommate, which he properly introduced as Gabriel. Gabriel was everything from cantankerous to witty and intelligent. Crowley talked about him with sparkling eyes and grandiose words. The praise was enough to have Aziraphale leaning in closer, quite interested.

Somewhere, Gabriel knew that Crowley thought about him like that—as the world. It was how he felt about Crowley. They were about as exclusive as supernaturals ever got, save for the moments when they had a mutual attraction. This was a rare moment, and only the future would really tell where it went. The future was a nervous thing and hearing that Crowley’s feelings had never once weakened was enough to have Gabriel feeling better. It was never an endeavor to replace him, just to find someone that they _both_ could enjoy.

“Might I say something?” Aziraphale suddenly asked. “I hope not to offend, of course, but it does sound like this Gabriel is a bit more than a friend with how you describe him.”

Crowley’s face flushed, all at once, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well. You know how it is.” He glanced at Aziraphale and said nothing more. He denied nothing, and he confirmed nothing. He certainly wasn’t about to blurt out the truth—that they were two supernatural creatures on the run who might have been looking for someone to add to their strange little relationship. That always led to problems, and Crowley wasn’t really looking for problems. Just a pleasant few decades, maybe. Some dinner.

“Well, I’d certainly love to meet him. You’re both more than welcome to visit tomorrow. Oh, I’ll prepare something for dinner, as well. Are you tea drinkers, perhaps?”

“Oh, not me,” Crowley said. He glanced down to Gabriel real quick, and from just a glance, knew exactly what to say. “Gabriel’s more for coffee, you know.”

“I can prepare coffee easily enough.” Aziraphale clapped his hands together and grinned. “You simply must bring him by for dinner. Would you?”

“Sure, definitely. We’ll be here.”

“Then, it’s decided. I look forward to your visit tomorrow.”

It was a cordial and polite farewell, and then Crowley was heading out the door. Gabriel trailed behind him, which was just another clue that left Aziraphale wondering just who he’d met. He’d find out eventually, and that was all that truly mattered.

As Crowley and Gabriel arrived home, they weren’t three steps past the foyer before Gabriel was back on two legs. This was one of those _perks_ , as Crowley liked to call it, of their little predicament. Gabriel didn’t wear clothes as a dog, which meant he was entirely naked as he stepped through the house. The perfect chance for a few choice glances.

“That went fast, don’t you think?” Gabriel muttered, almost stomping through the hallway. Crowley trailed behind, looking more at Gabriel’s arse than anything else.

“I think so, but who cares? Maybe it just means he’s interested. He did seem the type, you know.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, walking into the bedroom. “Interested in _you_ maybe, but how do I stand up to that? He looked at me like he was disgusted.”

“Maybe he’s not a dog person.” Crowley shrugged.

Gabriel stopped dead in his tracks and glared over his shoulder. “I’m a dog, Crowley. You’re always so kind to say so.”

“Hey now, hey—” Crowley cleared the space between them, quickly, pulling Gabriel into his arms and against his chest. “You’re more than that, and you know it. We may not even get to a point with that guy where he has to know anything about us. And if we do, he may _leave_ the minute he finds out. You know at the end of the day that it’s me and you, though, don’t you?” Crowley spread his hands down the expense of Gabriel’s chest. “Besides, I only call you a mutt when you’ve been _bad_ ,” he teased.

Gabriel rolled his eyes, but he was calmed. He leaned into Crowley, giving a hefty sigh. “I’m sorry. I’m—on edge, I guess.”

“Full moon isn’t for a couple of days, right? We can go have dinner tomorrow, and then I’ll take care of you. You know I will.”

Gabriel nodded, letting his eyes close as Crowley dragged his fingers back through Gabriel’s hair.

“When it’s done, we’ll go back and see where it all goes, okay? For all we know, it goes nowhere.”

“What if it doesn’t? What if he finds out, and he _likes_ it? Would you ever consider that?”

Crowley gave a weak chuckle. “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Let’s just focus on the next few days for now, yeah?”

On that, Gabriel could agree. All he wanted to focus on for the next few hours was a nice hot shower and the feeling of Crowley’s teeth in his skin. It was that time again, and the tradeoff was always nice. Crowley could feed, and in two days, in return, Crowley would take care of _everything_ for the full moon.

In the morning, they _actually_ went grocery shopping. They were going to need food to get through the full moon. Crowley had seen enough of them to know exactly what they needed and how much. For the most part, it was just Gabriel. He looked different under a full moon, but it was still him. Everything was just multiplied. When he was hungry, he was ravenous. When he was aroused, he was insatiable. The first time, Crowley had been shocked. Now, he almost looked forward to it.

Once evening fell, around four, they started to get ready. They weren’t attending any formal event, but they still wanted to look as nice as they could. Gabriel always cleaned up a bit nicer, and this situation was no different. While Crowley sufficed with a nice jacket and a dark pair of jeans, Gabriel dressed stiffly with a button up shirt and a long coat, complete with a lavender scarf. Then, they were ready. There was no need for disguises, either. This was the first time in ages that they’d just been able to walk out of the flat together.

The street wasn’t quite empty enough for them to hold hands on their brisk little walk, but they walked close together. It was the same path they’d taken for years on their way to the market, but this time, it was something special. It was approaching Aziraphale’s shop—closed early—and letting themselves in.

Aziraphale’s bookshop was quaint and warm. The fireplace was going, and the lights were low; the whole place smelled of books and comfort and wine. To the back of the store there was a little sitting area set up with mismatched furniture that had clearly seen some use. It was charming. It was wonderful. It was the perfect sort of homey little place to spend an evening. There was wine, there was coffee, and there was Aziraphale hurrying down a back set of stairs to greet them.

“Welcome, welcome!” Aziraphale greeting. “Oh, you must be Gabriel. It’s so nice to meet you—Crowley spoke such nice things about you.”

Gabriel had heard every nice thing Crowley had said—he’d sounded like a lovesick schoolboy. Gabriel shook Aziraphale’s hand and smiled at him. “Did he? That’s not like him. You must be Aziraphale, then. He did mention you when he got home.”

If Crowley could have done it in some subtle way, he would have smashed his heel into Gabriel’s foot for that. He refrained and offered a nice smile, instead. He went through the formal bit of greeting, and then it was time to be seated.

Aziraphale served coffee, he served wine, and they talked. They lost themselves to conversation. Aziraphale had so many stories to share about how he got into business, what kind of business he ran, and the sorts of people he met every day. As it turned out, he’d started as a book collector in his youth. That didn’t pay the bills quite as well as he’d hoped, which led to the bookstore. He sold both mass purchased books and books he’d come across over the years—but only extra copies. First editions belonged to him, because he still _loved_ books.

Neither Crowley nor Gabriel had jobs. Crowley made most of their money through hustling and well-placed investment deals; Gabriel tended to spend that money on fine tailored suits and larger-than-necessary steaks at restaurants. That wasn’t the best thing to mention in response to such a passionate love of books, but Crowley’s sudden excuse of being independently wealthy didn’t help either. They were living on his dead dad’s fortune.

That was the perfect transition point for dinner. Aziraphale hadn’t made anything too fancy, so he hoped that they liked lasagna. It was his mother’s recipe, rest her soul, and he made it as often as he could. He ate as often as he could, too, but that was really just a part of the appeal. Crowley was a bit thin, but he’d always had a thing for the bigger people. Gabriel was bigger than him—a bit taller, more muscle. Aziraphale had a nice, healthy layer of fat on him that Crowley really couldn’t wait to get his hands on.

If things went that far, of course. He _was_ above using certain vampiric traits to lure people into his bed.

Gabriel hadn’t been too enthused about the pasta dish until Aziraphale actually served it. It wasn’t a traditional lasagna at all—it had chicken and pesto included, and Gabriel was thankful for the meat. He was feeling a bit more antsy than he otherwise might have. He was worried about making a good impression, of course, but there was something going on right underneath it that he couldn’t quite place. It must have just been more nervousness.

They talked through dinner, and it was more than pleasant. Aziraphale had no issue talking about himself or his situation; he’d come from an incredibly religious family, hence the name, and he’d suffered for it. When he discovered his orientation, it’d created a rift between him and his family. He’d struck out on his own and spent the next decade or two working past his internalized struggles.

The story struck a bit too close to home, as it was nearly the same story Gabriel had. While he hadn’t seen anyone in his family or his pack since he’d run off with Crowley, the principles he’d been raised on had been there for a long time. He knew the struggles Aziraphale had faced, and it was quite the moment of empathic understanding between them.

It was the last moment between them.

All at once, Gabriel was lurching over the table, digging his _claws_ into the wood and groaning. It was painfully familiar—the way that his back hunched and saliva dripped down from his hanging jaw. He was groaning with _pain_.

“Is—is he alright?” Aziraphale asked, shooting back with his panic.

Crowley panicked just as quickly, pulling up from his seat. He didn’t go for Gabriel—he went for the window. This wasn’t right. They weren’t supposed to see a full moon until the following night, but there was nothing else that Gabriel’s sudden visceral reaction could have been. Tonight was _safe_. They were here late _because_ it was safe. This shouldn’t be happening, but there it was. As Crowley ripped open the curtains, he was met with the haunting image of the moon hanging overhead.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Crowley hissed.

The moment he heard Gabriel growl; he knew it was too late to do anything. They wouldn’t be able to get home fast enough to keep anything from happening, because it was already happening. The transformation never took a long time, but it lasted the whole night. Gabriel was himself, theoretically, but almost impossible to reason with.

Crowley only barely managed to whirl around fast enough to grab Gabriel before he tackled Aziraphale to the ground. He was snarling, biting in the air. His eyes were blown wide, claws already growing out from his fingers, and his bones had already started to crack. There was a tail beginning to grow, hair sprouting from his arms, his chest. His clothes ripped under the strain as his back began to change, and his arms went taut with veins.

“Gabriel—Gabriel!” Crowley tried to get his attention back.

“Let me go—” Gabriel growled. “Look at him—he _smells_ so good—he wants—”

“I said _stop_ ,” Crowley barked, and Gabriel just seemed to fold under his demand.

Aziraphale was nearly pressed up against the wall in his fit of fear, but this was something he couldn’t have possibly foreseen. Gabriel was turning fast into a creature the likes of which Aziraphale had never seen—fearsome, large, and _horrifying_. At one word from Crowley and the tight grip of a hand on the back of his neck, Gabriel calmed. His breathing was ragged, but he was still in Crowley’s hold. His pupils were wide, dilated, and focused directly on Aziraphale.

Somewhere, Aziraphale couldn’t help the pang of arousal at that intense stare. There was something in the air, maybe, that he’d blame this on. He wasn’t as if he hadn’t found Crowley and Gabriel attractive before, but _this_ should have frightened him, not just solidified that ideal.

“You don’t get to attack people,” Crowley said, sternly. He pulled Gabriel back and grabbed him by the chin; even though Crowley was noticeably shorter, especially with the rapid changes taking place, he was still clearly in charge.

Still, Gabriel tried to lash out at Crowley, next. He lurched forward, teeth snapping in the air. His eyes were wild and crazed, and his skin was covered in a thin sheet of sweat. Even from where Aziraphale was, Gabriel’s straining erection was visible through his trousers. He was consumed with the need to take, to mate, and to _claim_. It was a rare sight, this particular transformation. Crowley just had to stay in control.

Crowley grabbed Gabriel, threading his fingers through the back of Gabriel’s hair to wrench his head to the side.

“ _Down,_ boy,” Crowley growled. “Spend all this time talking about how high and mighty you are, and then the minute the moon comes out you turn into a mangy bitch in heat, don’t you?

Gabriel bared his teeth, but when it came down to it, he dropped down to his knees when Crowley pushed.

“There’s only one way to take care of a mutt like you—you’re not some hot alpha male, are you? No—” Crowley wrenched Gabriel forward, sending him straight down into the floor.

It was like Aziraphale wasn’t even there. Crowley saw Gabriel like that and went straight to what he knew, how it had been for decades between them. It was a dance where Crowley didn’t just have the control, he took it for himself and used it to press Gabriel’s face into the floor.

“You’re just a helpless little whore,” Crowley growled.

He had Gabriel on his hands and knees, facing towards Aziraphale who was just _watching_. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. Watching Crowley put Gabriel in his place—with all of Gabriel’s size—was something Aziraphale couldn’t take his eyes away from if he tried. They didn’t even realize he was in the room, too wrapped up in each other. Crowley pulled Gabriel’s trousers down to his knees, and Gabriel trembled. He pushed himself back, digging his claws into the wooden floor to keep himself steady.

Gabriel _presented_ himself for Crowley, spreading his thighs as far as he could with the confines of his trousers. He whimpered into the floor as Crowley’s hand bore down against the swell of his arse. He took two handfuls, spreading Gabriel’s cheeks apart to see everything he was hiding—that puckered, red, and quivering ring of muscle. Gabriel was one self-slicking hole away from a moaning whore, but Crowley wouldn’t have him any other way. He spat over Gabriel’s hole and spread the wetness over him.

“Crowley—” Gabriel rasped, his voice like gravel in his throat.

“That’s not what good boys say, is it?”

“Master— _please_ ,” Gabriel amended, dragging his claws through the floor. Even Aziraphale could see there was a choice—either Crowley did something, or Gabriel was going to tear his way out of Crowley’s hold and _claim_ , just like every instinct in his body screamed for.

Crowley hummed, rather pleased with Gabriel’s behavior. He spread his hands down Gabriel’s arse, down his bare thighs, and then dragged his nails back up. Gabriel shivered under the touch, and when Crowley grabbed at his newly grown tail, he yelped. Gabriel’s entire body went taut with anticipation; his attention was on Crowley and Crowley alone. Whatever he could do to entice Crowley _to him_ , he would do it—Aziraphale entirely forgotten. Gabriel just wanted, he _needed._ He didn’t care who saw him and what they thought of him; as long as he could have Crowley’s cock, he didn’t _care_.

“You’re such a good boy,” Crowley cooed. “So desperate to _please_ , aren’t you? Yes, yes—I know. We like it when you’re calm.”

He spread Gabriel’s cheeks apart, running his thumb down to massage over his hole. Gabriel trembled in response, closing his eyes tight and biting down on his lip. He was trying so _hard_ to stay calm, to do what Crowley said, but with Crowley’s touch against him like that, he was quickly losing his resolve. When Crowley pressed his finger inside, suddenly wet, Gabriel let out a sudden growl.

They’d gotten used to carrying things around. When you were centuries old with nothing to lose, it was fun to get into trouble. This was just the type of trouble they preferred. In this instance, especially, it hit all the right spots. Crowley’s fingers were dripping in lubricant, two of them working their way inside of Gabriel, stretching him open and taking every last ounce of his control. Gabriel clawed through the floor, groaning and growling with every inch Crowley worked deeper.

Suddenly, Crowley was slapping Gabriel across his thighs. “ _Control_ yourself,” Crowley snarled. In the same breath, he forced a third finger into Gabriel, ripping a low groan right from his throat.

Aziraphale was starting to feel disturbingly aroused, but he kept his hands gripped into the table he’d leaned up against. Every word from Crowley’s mouth brought Gabriel down another notch as he struggled to comply, to be _good_. It was the hottest thing Aziraphale had ever watched, and they only continued. He was sweating through his own waistcoat already, but the moment Crowley pulled his cock out of his trousers, Aziraphale openly moaned.

Gabriel had a thick, impressive cock. It was achingly hard and slick with its own drippings. Crowley’s cock was smaller but curved in such a way that had Aziraphale squirming where he stood, imagining what it would be like to have that cock in his mouth, _inside_ of him. He was suddenly left feeling painfully empty. He knew exactly how Gabriel felt, whimpering and clawing at the floor in his desperate attempt to hold himself together.

“ _Beg_ for me,” Crowley ordered. He dragged the head of his cock through Gabriel’s cleft.

“ _Please_ , master,” Gabriel responded instantly, pushing himself back against the hot pressure of Crowley— “Fuck me, _breed me_ , I need you—I need you—”

“You need a firm hand, is what you need. Turns you into such a nice, perfect little puppy, doesn’t it? Yes—” Crowley hummed.

With his thumbs, he pulled Gabriel’s stretched hole open. Then, he pressed inside—slowly. Slow enough that Gabriel cried out with frustration, his hips bucking back to try and meet Crowley’s touch. But Crowley kept him slow, kept him controlled. He leaned over Gabriel and took hold of him by the neck, forcing his face down into the floor, and growling into his ear.

“Keep still,” he ordered. “You’ll get what I give you _when_ I give it to you, do you understand? If you can’t keep a hold of yourself, I’ll have you fucking yourself on fake cocks for the rest of your life.”

Gabriel whimpered, nodding into the floor. “Yes, master—I’m so sorry, master—”

“Good boy,” Crowley cooed.

With a sudden snap of his hips, he had Gabriel crying out in a sudden rush of pleasure. Crowley bottomed out inside of him, hips flush against Gabriel’s arse. Gabriel all but spasmed around him, his jaw dropped open and his eyes closed tightly with that _heat_ inside of him.

“Master— _Master_ —” Gabriel cried out.

Just a second later, Crowley was pounding into him. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room with the sound of Gabriel’s moans, Crowley’s grunts. They were so wrapped up in each other, and Aziraphale was just watching. He was achingly hard in his own trousers, leaking through his underwear. He didn’t dare touch himself, but there was no doubt in his mind that Crowley and Gabriel could probably smell him. All it had taken was one glint of Crowley’s golden eyes and a sharp glance of his fangs for Aziraphale to piece it all together.

He didn’t care. He didn’t know why he didn’t care, but he didn’t care. He was too caught up in this. Every one of Crowley’s thrusts was hard enough that it pushed Gabriel further and further down, onto the floor. Gabriel’s brows were shot up, his jaw dropped open—he looked so absolutely blissed out that it was like Aziraphale could feel it, too. Like he could understand how deep and how _hot_ every press of Crowley’s cock inside him must have felt. Aziraphale couldn’t help but _want_.

Gabriel had just lost himself in the feeling. It didn’t take long for the drag of Crowley’s cock alone, inside of him, to pull him right over the head. Gabriel cried out with his sudden orgasm, clenching down around Crowley. Crowley, in response, groaned. He dug his sharp nails into Gabriel’s hips, holding him still to take every following hard, fast thrust. He worked deep, fucking Gabriel almost ruthlessly. Gabriel just kept coming, spurting out thick heavy streams of white across the floor—the sight had Crowley _laughing_.

“Look at you,” Crowley growled. “Such a useless little thing. Given this big, strong alpha body, but I know you’re nothing better than a prized bitch.”

Crowley pulled Gabriel back up onto his knees for a _show_ of how strong he was, how under control he had this hulking, raging beast in front of him. It put everything on display, from the spend dripping down from Gabriel’s cock to the swollen knot at the base. It looked painful, almost, but Crowley ignored Gabriel’s prick all together. Instead, with his arms around Gabriel’s chest, he tweaked those dark, swollen nipples and had Gabriel crying out, head lolling back.

Aziraphale gulped as he watched Crowley throw Gabriel back down to the floor. Gabriel spread his thighs out wider, digging his nails into the floor and holding on as Crowley grabbed him by the hips. It didn’t take long for Crowley to tumble over the edge, himself, but every thrust until that pivotal moment was hard enough to shake Gabriel’s entire body, to push him forward along the wooden floor so that Crowley had to follow, keeping his knees in just the right place that Gabriel’s legs were spread open for him—that proper presentation display.

When Crowley came, he came with a cry. His nails scraped over Gabriel’s thighs, his teeth down Gabriel’s spine, and the whole thing had Gabriel trembling again like a second orgasm had ripped through his body. Crowley didn’t take even a minute to rest. Once he’d filled Gabriel with his own spend, he pulled back. They never left the flat unprepared, and Crowley proved that when he pulled a sleek, black plug out of his bag. There was no resistance as he pushed that plug into Gabriel. Gabriel just cried and muttered out a quiet thanks.

Aziraphale was glad for only one thing: that he hadn’t come in his pants. He was painfully aroused, and while Gabriel was too spent to do anything, Crowley’s eyes were on him in a second. There was a clear, powerful sort of control Crowley had over himself. He looked at Aziraphale and approached him, but he did so slowly and only after he’d tucked himself back into his pants. Crowley couldn’t see it, but Aziraphale noticed the strange look on Gabriel’s face as they were suddenly only inches apart.

“I should apologize for that,” Crowley muttered, “but I won’t. I can tell by the look on your face—you enjoyed that.”

Aziraphale gave a hesitant nod. “I—I had a feeling you two weren’t what you said. In my line of work, you meet strange people from time to time, and—”

Aziraphale stopped short when Crowley raised his hand. “I don’t want to hear excuses,” Crowley said. “Just tell me what you’re thinking.”

“H-how long does this go on?” Aziraphale asked.

Crowley shrugged. “The full moon, so usually for a night. But the full moon isn’t supposed to be tomorrow, so I assume someone hasn’t done their homework.” Crowley shot a glare over his shoulder, but Gabriel wasn’t paying attention.

“I—” Aziraphale sucked in a deep breath. He wanted this. He didn’t know what _this_ was, but he wanted it. With Crowley and Gabriel’s consent, he could have it.

-

They spent all day in the bookshop, but it was entirely different. Crowley explained most of it—Gabriel wasn’t stuck in that strange hybrid form; it only happened when the full moon rose. It was rising again, tonight. Because of the strangeness of the situation, they had adapted. Gabriel wasn’t _allowed_ to be anything other than a perfectly well-behaved dog until the evening. Crowley had come more than prepared, this time, too. Gabriel was well fitted with a sleek black collar and instructions to do exactly as he was told.

That had been the thing to make Aziraphale a little too hot a little too early. _He_ could order Gabriel around, too, and Gabriel would do what he said. He wouldn’t—Aziraphale didn’t even know where he would begin with just idle sorts of orders, but he still took advantage of it. Instead of worrying about the shop, like the stocking of shelves and ordering, Aziraphale made himself comfortable on the carpet out in front of the fireplace more than frequently. Gabriel was quite comfortable, lying there with the warmth of the fire to lull him in and out of sleep. He was more than happy to have Aziraphale pet him, too.

Some customers were fond of him, some were afraid, but most didn’t care. Gabriel didn’t interact with them. The only person he openly interacted with, in the few moments that he wasn’t comfortable by the fire, was Crowley. Every now and again, Gabriel would trot over to the chair Crowley had made himself comfortable in and all but _beg_ for attention, affection. Crowley was always happy to provide it, little whispers of _good boy_ here and there, a kiss to Gabriel’s fluffy head.

It was enough to waste the day away, but Aziraphale couldn’t close the shop down fast enough. They needed time to eat, to wash up, and as Crowley said— _get ready_. Crowley would take care of everything. He’d done this before, and most of all, Gabriel trusted him. Aziraphale was still new, but Crowley enticed him with a long-term promise. If he decided he wanted to stick around for a bit— _if_ this ever went anywhere beyond the occasional playtime, Gabriel would certainly come to trust him. That opened a whole new world of possibilities.

Once Aziraphale had closed the shop, they all moved upstairs. Crowley showered first, with Gabriel close in tow. When they came out of the bathroom, Gabriel was clad in nothing but a towel in his collar, some invisible leash latching him onto Crowley. But he was human, and even human, there was _plenty_ to look at. Aziraphale didn’t get to look very long, as Crowley was sending _him_ into the bathroom, next. With that voice Crowley used, Aziraphale was helpless but to comply. He could already see a future where Crowley had him in a collar, too.

Aziraphale had plenty to keep him occupied in the shower while he cleaned himself. He had no idea what he was about to see when he went back into his bedroom, but he was sure that it was going to be everything he dreamed of and _more_. He wanted to make sure he was cleaned thoroughly, but he also couldn’t help but wrap his own hand around his cock—just a quick stroke, he told himself. He was nearly lost in his imagination. He’d met these people exactly two days prior, and he was about to give himself to them, entirely.

Aziraphale finished his shower and stepped out, nothing but a towel around his waist, to join Crowley and Gabriel in the bedroom. What he saw exceeded his wildest expectations. Gabriel was on his knees, his arms bound behind his back tight enough to keep him contained but loose enough that the ropes wouldn’t snap when his change started. He was entirely naked, and lubricant was dripping from his arse as Crowley worked him open. He was moaning, groaning through gritted teeth as he tried to keep himself composed through all of Crowley’s torturous teasing.

Crowley was naked, too. His entire body was on display when Aziraphale hadn’t gotten the privilege of seeing him before. He was all lean muscle and perfection; his supernatural senses didn’t hurt, either. The moment Aziraphale stepped out of the bathroom, Crowley knew. He glanced back over his shoulder, crooking his fingers _just_ right to have Gabriel crying out, as he met Aziraphale’s gaze.

“Come join us, angel,” Crowley said. “I’ve got quite the treat for you, if you fancy it.”

Aziraphale gulped, unwrapped his towel, and walked across the room. He stood at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do with himself, but he was too entranced to care. Crowley had three fingers inside of Gabriel, stretching him open, letting all of that lubricant _drip_ out of him. Gabriel’s entire body seemed taken with a flush, and he was trembling. He was still human, but Aziraphale could see the rippling of his muscles—preparing for the inevitable.

“Go on, touch,” Crowley ordered. “Gabriel’s a good boy. Aren’t you?” He asked, pulling Gabriel back against his chest and taking a gentle hold of his neck.

“ _Yes_ ,” Gabriel gasped. His face was entirely red, like the words alone had him feeling embarrassed and vulnerable.

Aziraphale slid onto the bed in the space prevented for him, in front of Gabriel so their eyes met.

“Anywhere,” Crowley encouraged. “He likes to be touched, don’t you, Gabriel?”

Gabriel just groaned, letting his head roll back to Crowley’s shoulder. His mind was already focused elsewhere—the moon was rising, and he could feel it thrumming through his veins. He didn’t care what Crowley did to him, and he really didn’t care what Aziraphale did. He just needed _something_.

While Crowley worked Gabriel on his fingers, Aziraphale took the chance to explore. He ran his hands down Gabriel’s chest, palming over his nipples as he went. Gabriel let out the smallest little gasp at the touch, which caught Aziraphale’s interest. As his hands slid lower, he came closer, mouthing over Gabriel’s chest. Gabriel’s cock twitched in response, jolting with new arousal. When Aziraphale’s hand wrapped around him, Gabriel’s jaw fell open in a silent moan.

Aziraphale sucked over Gabriel’s nipples, nipping at them with his teeth and switching between the two. All the while, he stroked Gabriel’s cock almost languidly, just feeling the weight of it in his hand. Gabriel’s cock was thick and veined—the perfect everything. It had Aziraphale shivering up against his body as he squeezed just at the base where he remembered Gabriel’s knot. Aziraphale didn’t know what he wanted more—to feel that knot buried inside him or to know the heat that Crowley did, his cock buried in Gabriel.

All at once, Gabriel’s moaning went to a feral, terrifying sounding snarl. He tried to lean forward as the transformation began—the moon shining brightly through the window—and snapped at the air between him and Aziraphale. Crowley had a tight hold on him, keeping him still. The ropes meant he couldn’t grab, couldn’t swipe, or scratch, but he still had his teeth. His teeth were growing dangerously sharp as his eyes suddenly went wide. Aziraphale had all but scrambled to get away, pressing himself against the headboard; he watched as Gabriel struggled to get to him, and Gabriel looked _angry_.

“ _Behave_ , Gabriel,” Crowley suddenly snapped. He had a hand around Gabriel’s neck, and used the leverage to really work his fingers in deep. Gabriel yelped at the sudden press, his eyes closing tight. There was saliva dripping down from the corner of his mouth, and he looked just as pleased as he did ravenous.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” Crowley pressed. He ran his tongue along the column of Gabriel’s neck, standing on his knees behind Gabriel to reach his ear. Aziraphale could hear the bones starting to shift, and he could see Gabriel’s ears begin to change. His muscles went tight, compressed with the strain, and he started to sweat.

“You want to show us how good of a boy you are, don’t you? Makes you happy, yes, yes—I know,” Crowley cooed, stroking Gabriel’s skin. “You’re such a good boy; such a perfect little bitch to be used and _fucked_.”

Crowley pulled his fingers back and wiped them on the bed before taking a tight grip of Gabriel’s hips. Gabriel was still snarling, growling—his voice entirely gone as the transformation took hold of him. His tail had grown out from his back. Gabriel looked like a feral, wild _monster_ , but Crowley had perfect control over him.

“I see how badly you want this,” Crowley continued. “Oh, it’s been so long since you’ve had _fresh meat_ , hasn’t it? You want yourself a pretty little dove, but you have to _behave_ to get what you want. Show me what a good boy you are.”

Gabriel groaned something horrid, straight from his throat, in response to Crowley’s comment. When Crowley pushed him forward, he went willingly, even if there was hesitation in his eyes. He wanted. He didn’t know what he wanted, only that he _wanted_. He’d do whatever he had to get what he wanted—whatever Crowley asked of him.

Gabriel was left to hover there, straddling over Aziraphale’s hips, while Crowley worked. He ignored Gabriel all together, nothing more than the idle kiss against his rippling spine as he worked himself down, his hand between Gabriel’s thighs. Gabriel’s thighs were thick, muscled, and trembling with the strain it took to keep himself upright with the stress his body was now under; they were the perfect frame for Aziraphale to see through as Crowley worked.

Crowley grabbed Aziraphale’s thick, short little cock and stroked him. Aziraphale immediately gasped, spreading his thighs out as far as he could with Gabriel straddling him. Crowley worked with fast precision, like he knew _exactly_ where to press the tips of his fingers to make Aziraphale see stars. He’d already been straining, but now Aziraphale was fully hard and _aching_ for more. Crowley’s hand was almost too much, too skilled. It was the best thing Aziraphale had ever felt, and he craved more of it.

“Look at you, staying so still,” Crowley praised, running his free hand up Gabriel’s back. “Such a good boy, aren’t you? Do you think he’s a good boy, angel?” Crowley asked, peering around Gabriel to look at Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was flushed and sweaty, already, trembling towards even the slightest touch. He nodded, furiously, his eyes never leaving Gabriel’s. He couldn’t _not_ look at this sight above him—as the transformation continued, Gabriel looked more and more wrecked. He had wolf ears, a fully grown tail, and _claws_. His legs were slightly distended, and his back was cracked and arched. Aziraphale should have been disgusted, but he couldn’t bring himself to think anything more than what it was going to _feel_ like.

“Show him what a good boy you are,” Crowley ordered, pulling his hand away from Aziraphale’s cock. In turn, he peeled Gabriel’s cheeks apart and pushed him just a little further up. “Angel, tell him what a _good boy_ he is as he rides you. I want to hear every nasty thing you can think to say—nothing more than two little sluts playing together.”

Aziraphale _shivered._ How could he say anything against that? Just the way Crowley _talked_ had Aziraphale ready to spread his legs and do anything Crowley wanted him to. And he wouldn’t even have to. He laid there, fingers wrenched in the sheets, as Crowley helped lower Gabriel down onto his cock. Aziraphale cried out at the sudden tightness, the sudden _heat_ as Gabriel was seated in his lap. Gabriel’s body was on fire, and every labored breath had his walls clenching down around Aziraphale’s cock.

“G-good boy,” Aziraphale managed to garble out. His face was entirely red, but Crowley suddenly preened behind Gabriel.

“Show him how good of a boy you can be,” Crowley encouraged, running his hands up Gabriel’s sides.

Gabriel trembled, but he started to move. He rocked his hips into Aziraphale’s, rutting down and somehow working Aziraphale’s cock _deeper_. He worked his hips in little circles, groaning as the pleasure took hold of him. Gabriel lost himself to it, moving his hips, shifting himself so he could start to bounce. He worked himself up and down, slowly, and then quick—dropping himself over the length of Aziraphale’s cock and feeling the sudden _stretch_.

Crowley didn’t even need to help. He took the downtime to wind his way around, coming to relax next to Aziraphale so he could watch the show. Aziraphale looked at him, then, as he settled down alongside. Crowley’s cock was standing hard against his stomach, and how he could just ignore it like that had Aziraphale wondering—trembling as Gabriel squeezed down around him. Crowley visibly trembled at the sight, finally reaching down to stroke his own cock.

“Tell him what a good boy he is,” Crowley ordered, leaning closer to Aziraphale. He carded his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair, coaxing him alone.

“H-he’s such a good boy,” Aziraphale tried. “He—” a gasp “—he’s so tight, oh—Gabriel, you’re so hot inside, I—I can’t, I can’t—”

“Such a good _fuck_ ,” Crowley filled in. “Tight little bitch hole he has. Feels good, doesn’t it? Squeezes you just right. He’ll milk you _dry_ , little angel, I promise.” Crowley rose up on his elbow, moving closer to Aziraphale.

Aziraphale gasped, moaned, and cried out as Gabriel took his cock again and again, rolling his hips to work it in deeper. It was like he was trying to find his own pleasure, mouth dropped open as he groaned. Each time he bottomed out, Gabriel nearly cried with the pleasure that took him. His whole body was hot, and the transformation was almost finished. The moment it did, Aziraphale knew. Gabriel’s back snapped, and he clenched down so hard Aziraphale nearly screamed with his sudden orgasm.

“ _Good_ boy,” Crowley crooned, but he was looking at Aziraphale when he said it. Aziraphale trembled, his face going red. Crowley was leaning in, and Aziraphale couldn’t _wait_ to have that kiss—

Gabriel suddenly growled, snarled, and lunged forward like he meant to bite. All he did was snap, inches away from Aziraphale’s face. It should have been terrifying, but all Aziraphale felt was a sudden pang of arousal. He’d come, but his cock was still hard with the way Gabriel worked around him. That just made it all _hot_ , a sudden rush that almost had him coming dry. All eyes were back on Gabriel, and that was exactly what he wanted.

He almost thought he’d earned himself a punishment, with how fast Crowley was up, but it was different. Crowley faced Gabriel, throwing his leg over Aziraphale’s head for the perfect angle. Aziraphale had the perfect vantage point to _watch_ , too, as Crowley took complete control of this raging, feral monster.

Crowley was posturing. That’s what it was: showing off just how much control he had. He grabbed Gabriel by the head and yanked him down before hooking his thumbs into Gabriel’s mouth, pulling his lips apart. Aziraphale could see how sharp those teeth were for that split second that Crowley let him see. In the next second, Crowley was shoving his cock down Gabriel’s throat, until Gabriel’s nose was pressed right up against his pelvis. Gabriel _groaned_ , letting his eyes close.

He worked back on Aziraphale’s cock, grinding himself down as he tried to find his pleasure. With Crowley’s cock in his mouth, it was suddenly so much easier. The weight of it, the _heat_ as Crowley worked his hips. Gabriel moaned around Crowley’s prick, letting his jaw go lax so Crowley could use him however he pleased.

Aziraphale couldn’t contain his own moan, watching that. It was such an arousing display of power. Aziraphale could feel another impending orgasm, but he tried to fend it off. He wanted this to last as long as it could. Just the sight of Crowley’s cock disappearing again and again down Gabriel’s throat had Aziraphale’s mouth watering. He wanted a taste of that; he wanted to know what it was like for his throat to go lax around the head of Crowley’s cock until Crowley was coming.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale rasped, but Crowley stopped him right there.

“That’s _sir_ ,” Crowley corrected. “You don’t get to order me around. You have to _ask_ for things,” he said.

Aziraphale shuddered. “Y-yes, sir. I—I want you, Crowley—Sir, I mean. Sir—” Aziraphale cried out as Gabriel suddenly clenched down around him. Gabriel’s movements were growing erratic, like he was close to coming. “ _Sir_ ,” Aziraphale groaned. “I want your cock, _please_ , sir.”

Crowley hummed, and then pulled Gabriel’s mouth away. “You, behave, hm?” Crowley said. “I want to see what a good boy you can be for me when I’m not here holding the strings.” To prove his point, Crowley trailed his finger along the crease of Gabriel’s collar. “This means you’re _mine_ , pup. Act like it.”

Gabriel whimpered and nodded, straightening himself back up so he could really focus. Without his arms, it was so much harder to keep moving, but he was desperate to earn his orgasm. He bounced on Aziraphale’s cock with renewed vigor, circling his hips and grinding down. Aziraphale gasped, his hands flying down to brace himself on Gabriel’s hips.

All Crowley did was turn around. He took Aziraphale by the chin, using his free hand to stroke back Aziraphale’s hair like _he_ , too, was nothing more than a prized little pup. He coaxed Aziraphale’s lips open before feeding the tip of his cock right through. Aziraphale’s eyes nearly rolled back into his head at the sudden pleasure, the weight and heat of Crowley in his mouth. He moaned, the vibrations sending pleasure right up through Crowley’s spine, but Crowley kept himself composed.

He started out slow, just rocking his hips and working deeper, inch by little inch. Crowley _groaned_ when Aziraphale started to suck and work his tongue along. Aziraphale was clearly inexperienced, but the enthusiasm made up for it. He sucked over Crowley’s cock, hollowing out his cheeks and moaning. All those little things had Crowley’s hips working faster. It didn’t take long before he was fucking Aziraphale’s throat, slamming as deep as he could each time.

Even the scrape of Aziraphale’s teeth wasn’t enough to stop Crowley. It felt _good_. It was that hard sharp of pain that made his vision go white in the corner. Behind him, he could hear how far along Gabriel was—groaning and crying and desperate for release. Every little whimper, little cry, egged Crowley on. He could close his eyes and imagine what Gabriel looked like with his hips jerking, rolling over Aziraphale’s fat little cock. Gabriel must have been working so _hard_ for his pleasure—Aziraphale had no idea what he was doing, but he was more than happy to lay there so perfectly and be used.

Aziraphale was suddenly crying out with another orgasm, just the same time as Gabriel finally hit the peak moment of pleasure and spilled over himself. He took another load inside of him, whimpering and falling forward into Crowley’s back. That was Crowley’s cue to really let go, and he did. Aziraphale was so wonderfully lax beneath him that it didn’t matter how fast he snapped his hips. Aziraphale took it and moaned. Behind Crowley, Gabriel was trying his best to help, running the points of his teeth along Crowley’s spine as he kissed down and back up again.

Crowley pulled back just as he started to come, spurting in Aziraphale’s mouth and over his face, across his spread lips. They were both tired, and Crowley could see that, but he wasn’t quite done. He moved away, just far enough that he could grab Gabriel by the sprouting hair at the back of his neck and force him down.

“Be a good boy,” Crowley whispered. “Clean up your master’s mess.”

Gabriel whimpered, but he did exactly what Crowley ordered. He leaned down and licked Crowley’s spend from Aziraphale’s face, and when he was done, their lips were suddenly together in a hot and heavy kiss. Aziraphale initiated it, and Gabriel was the first one to pull away.

The night was just beginning, and this was a special moon. It would last for one more night before Gabriel was finally free of these painful transformations and wretched needs. It was another night that Aziraphale was desperate to see, _especially_ if it would see him in a collar and ropes, tied down to the bed beside Gabriel as Crowley took turns with them. Fucking them each right to the edge of completion before pulling back and switching. All the while, his tantalizing whispers of _good boy_ just barely holding them both together.

It did eventually come to an end, and with it, there would be questions. There would be too many questions to deal with in the immediate moments after. Gabriel did nothing but sleep for an entire _day_ , once they got back to the flat. Crowley took care of everything else—cooking, cleaning, everything. He’d take care of the questions, too, when it was time to ask. Aziraphale was still a variable in something that had always just been them. They had a routine, and they had a life, and every little shake to that foundation always caused a quake.

Crowley was in the bedroom when Gabriel woke up, eyelids fluttering before he finally stretched. Crowley could hear the bones cracking, and that had been the first clue. He turned away from the closet and gave Gabriel the best smile he could muster—he was tired too, for as little as vampires slept.

“Morning, babe,” Crowley said, quietly. “How you feeling?”

“Tired,” Gabriel responded. “What happened?”

“Oh, a lot of stuff. Wanted to talk to you, actually.”

Gabriel looked at Crowley, eyebrows raised slightly.

Crowley explained it as he came to sit on the side of their bed. Gabriel had been extra snappy; there’d been a few times where it even looked like he’d been trying to _hurt_ Aziraphale. Crowley was even sporting an impressive bite mark to his forearm from the third night, which had Gabriel’s face flushing and uncomfortable red. Aziraphale was unharmed, but Crowley still had to ask if something was wrong. He’d seen Gabriel at the worst of his worst, and it’d never quite been like that.

“It’s something about the special full moon,” Gabriel muttered. “I guess it just makes me crazier than normal.”

“You sure there’s nothing else?”

Gabriel took in a deep breath, then looked at Crowley. “You like him, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Crowley admitted. “Thought you did, too.”

“I _do_ , but I guess it just felt strange, in the moment. When he tried to kiss you or when you—you know,” Gabriel sighed. Talking about intimacy had never been his strong suit.

Crowley gave a weak smile, slipping closer so he could put his hand on the side of Gabriel’s face.

“We both like him; that’s okay. It doesn’t mean anything changes. You and me have been through too much together. _We_ _’re_ not going anywhere,” Crowley promised. “You and me are always going to be a thing, no matter where we go. If you think I’d even _dream_ about leaving you, you’re a dumber mutt than you look.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes, pushing Crowley’s hand away from him. Crowley gave out a weak laugh; he knew he’d done no harm when Gabriel slipped down the bed to sit closer. Gabriel leaned forward onto his knees and looked at Crowley. He looked down to the folds in the sheet, then back at Crowley.

“You’re not a dumb mutt,” Crowley muttered, leaning into Gabriel’s head. “You’re wonderful, you’re handsome, and you’ve always had my back. Trust me to have yours, okay? I love you.”

Gabriel closed his eyes and smiled. He was always weak to talk like that and it had him tilting his head back so that they were nearly kissing. “I love you, too, bloodsucker,” he muttered.

Crowley let that one slide in turn for pressing their lips together. They still had a lot of questions to answer and a whole lot of future to work out, but no matter what those answers became, there would still always be _them_. With that assurance, things were easier. Things would never really change, even if they changed a lot. Time would move on, the people would change, but they never would. In that essence, everything would always be the same, and it would be comfortable.

In that moment, Gabriel took advantage of his superior strength to pull Crowley into bed with him, on top of him. They could have the morning to themselves. They could have the rest of forever to themselves, if they so pleased, so Crowley made himself comfortable between Gabriel’s thighs and just kept kissing him.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 Froge Bounces 𓆏  
> [Check me out on Tumblr!](https://tantumuna.tumblr.com)  
> [My Twitter!](https://twitter.com/tantumunawrites)  
> 


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